


Dark Angel Unleashed (Part I of The Chronicles of House Vader)

by IvyLeigh



Series: The Chronicles of House Vader [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Armored Vader Sex, Blood and Torture, Dominance, Dominatrix, Drama & Romance, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fuck Me Boots, Harems, High Heels, Original Female Character - Freeform, Sexual Violence, Sith, Sith Sex, Sith Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyLeigh/pseuds/IvyLeigh
Summary: Lylla, the Death Star pleasure slave, faces her ultimate challenge in Darth Vader. And her life is changed forever.I have always been fascinated with the brilliant and sexy women of history who rose from nothing to positions of ultimate power. Empress Theodora of the Byzantine Empire was a burlesque dancer when she caught the eye of Justinian, and ruled as his equal for over a decade. Roxelane was a Russian peasant girl who was kidnapped by slavers and sold to Sultan Suleyman's harem in the 16th century. Years later, she was Sultana Hurrem of the Ottoman Empire and Suleyman's most trusted advisor. Madame du Pompadour was born illegitimately in Paris and grew up to become the favorite mistress of Louis XV and a political powerhouse in her own right.So, I had an idea-- what would a Star Wars version of a lady like this look like? And let's make her DARK SIDE-- yeah, sure, let's do that. And let's make her the Anti-Padme (Anidala fans may not like this series, just warning you).I actually abandoned this series years ago, but dusted it off after Rogue One and started it up again. I am re-editing and remastering it with New Canon and Legends elements.Enjoy.~Ivy





	Dark Angel Unleashed (Part I of The Chronicles of House Vader)

Lylla sat at her small table, completely nude, mindlessly pushing the cred chips around on the slick surface: Two thousand here on the table, fifteen thousand in her credit account. Four thousand credits, that was all she needed. Just four thousand more to meet her buyout price of twenty-one thousand credits. Then she would be free.

Her short-lived optimism burned away like a lit match. She slapped herself in the forehead and clenched her teeth. Four thousand…may as well be in the millions. How long had it taken her to accumulate what she had already? Five years? The following week would mark her thirty-first year alive…how long could she hold herself together like this? When will the small lines start forming on her face, around her eyes? When will those parts of her still firm body begin to soften and sag? How long could she still successfully turn the trick before becoming a useless, aging joke on board the Death Star? Like she wasn't one already…

In a small fit of fury and despair, Lylla swiped her arm across the table top, sending the little cred chips flying in all directions in her quarters. She shook as she intensely forced her tears back, berating herself. _Stop it, stop it, you weak little fool! Get a hold of yourself—stop acting like a pathetic little woman…_

The money would come, one way or another. Fifty creds here, a hundred there in the form of tips and small gifts bestowed by DS officers…it would come. No, she would find a way out. 

She smiled bitterly as she glanced about her tiny quarters. She was already more fortunate than the other pleasure slaves onboard. She was the only one with her own living space, cramped as it was. Her room even had a viewport, albeit a small one. She had her own berth, her own table and chair, and her own tiny wardrobe for her few outfits. She still had to share the fresher with the other slaves, but this was a minor annoyance in light of everything else she had.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of the comlink. Irritably, she hit the speaker button. "Yes?"

The harem matron's voice crackled over the speaker. "Lylla, you've been called for."

Lylla stretched in her chair, pulling her arms and legs to their fullest length. "Mmm…who is it now? Tarkin? Tagge? Motti? Gods, I hope it's not Motti, that freak…" The comlink remained quiet for a moment. Lylla huffed, "Well, who is it?"

"It's…um…" The matron cleared her throat before she could spit out the name. "It's Lord Vader, Lylla."

Lylla's chair practically flew across the room as she leapt up, threw her arms over her head, and let out an elated screech that bounced off the ceiling and almost shattered the matron's eardrums. The matron obviously took Lylla's screams to be those of terror, for she piped, "Lylla…I can make some sort of excuse for you if you're afraid. I can perhaps tell Lord Vader you are in the infirmary or something—"

"Are you crazy?" Lylla barked into the com. "Do you know how long I have been waiting for this? Inform Lord Vader I will be there in a half-hour." She slapped the comlink off and skipped toward the small wardrobe, passing the slim full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Stopping, she gazed at her nakedness, running a hand over her torso and lightly caressing her breast, all the while smiling. "Play your cards right, Lylla," she murmured as she intensely glared into her own eyes.

She pulled a garment and pair of boots from the wardrobe and began to dress. She slid her arms into the tight sleeves of the black garment and fastened the front across her breasts and ribs. She donned a pair of black vinyl briefs cut low in the front and high up the hips and back with fasteners on either side. Finally, she pulled on the thigh-high black vinyl boots, clipping them to the garters that hung from the briefs.

She stood, nimbly balancing herself on the thin and impossibly high heels of the boots, and admired herself in the mirror. The top garment fit snugly around her form and heaved her breasts up and out of the neckline while exposing her tight midriff. A long two-meter train of black silk spilled from the back of the top garment and pooled around her feet. The high boots and skimpy briefs made her already long legs look even longer, and the heels made her almost as tall as Vader himself. She had sacrificed a good sum of her buyout money for this outfit, but she now saw it was well worth it. She ran her hands through her bobbed scarlet hair and moaned as she found herself aroused by her own image.

Executing a neat pirouette, she moved toward a small drawer in the wardrobe. Opening it, she pulled out one of the many hand-rolled glimmer-spice joints there and placed it between her lips. She was about to light it with her tiny laser-lighter when she stopped. She withdrew the joint from her lips and stared at it for a moment before putting it back into the drawer. "No, not this time," she whispered to herself, "This time, you go sober."

 

She exited her private quarters into the main harem chamber. Several girls, human and alien, were lounging or sitting on their berths and whispering nervously amongst themselves until they saw the statuesque red-haired pleasure slave enter the room. Lylla narrowed her black eyes and smiled a tight smile at their sudden stillness. They had obviously heard the news of her newest client.

She raised an eyebrow at the girls. "What?"

A young, lavender-skinned Twi'lek girl gawked at Lylla with huge eyes. "You're actually going, Lylla? To Lord Vader?" she asked in heavily accented Basic.

"Of course I am, don't be stupid. What, I'm going to say no?"

"Lylla," a petite brown-haired human girl whispered tightly, "You're crazy."

Lylla threw back her head and laughed heartily at the comment. "I may well be," she said as she sauntered toward the younger slave. Her smile dissolved instantly as her hand shot forward and painfully pinched the girl's chin. "But let's see how crazy I am when you're still rotting here and I'm NOT!" She jerked her hand away from the girl's face and strode through the chamber door.

Her heels clicked noisily against the durasteel floors of the corridor as she proudly strode toward Vader's private chambers. She could feel the gawks and stares of Imperial officers and stormtroopers grope over her lithe form like invisible, salacious fingers—but instead of lustfully returning their stares as she normally would, she kept her head held high and her gaze focused ahead. She couldn't be bothered with this rabble at the moment. Her services had been requested by the most powerful and feared entity of the entire galaxy. With the train of her garment billowing behind her and anticipation flooding through her veins, Lylla felt like dark royalty.

She never hesitated for a second when the door to Vader's chambers slid open upon her approach. With a final toss of her bobbed tresses, she confidently stepped through into the awaiting antechamber.

The first thing Lylla noticed was that Vader's quarters were unlike any other officer's on the Death Star. She found herself standing in a dimly lit octagon-shaped vestibule with seamless walls of black marble. The walls were carved in a form of writing she had never seen before. Staring at the writing, she could swear that it was pulsating, moving, shifting slightly before her eyes. She blinked hard a few times to focus, and then remembered that she was completely sober, so she was not hallucinating this phenomenon. She reached out toward one of the symbols to see if would still move under her touch…

_*Unless you wish to experience severe seizures and possible death, I suggest you do not touch any symbols of Sithskrit.*_

Lylla's hand froze just centimeters shy of the wall, and she glanced around the chamber, trying to decipher where the resounding baritone had come from. When he spoke again, she came to realize it was generating from her own head.

_*You are punctual. That pleases me. You may enter.*_

The wall in front her smoothly and silently lifted from the floor. Lylla waited for the wall to rise high enough for her to step through into the adjoining chamber.

The chamber was large. One wall was one massive viewport from ceiling to floor and the opposite wall was a gigantic viewscreen. With gleaming black walls and floors, the chamber was completely unfurnished save for a huge black sphere anchored to the floor in the center of the room.

Lylla, despite her outward bravado, felt a chill of course down her spine. Nevertheless, she stepped toward the sphere, her hands placed on her slim hips. She stopped in when the sphere's top ascended, with jagged clamps mimicking the teeth and jaws of some nightmarish beast. A bright white light shot from the inside of the sphere, and Lylla caught her gasp in her throat at the sight within the sphere.

She could see delicate metal appendages lowering Lord Vader's helmet onto a ghoulishly white and heavily scarred naked skull. The sound of the helmet clamping itself back onto the Dark Lord's gorget lightly ricocheted off the cold marble walls, and Lylla could almost feel their vibrations against her skin. The entire throne within the sphere began to slowly rotate until the seated Lord of the Sith was fully facing the pleasure slave standing before him.

Lylla felt as though her heart were beating high up in her throat. She tried to slow her accelerated breathing as well as think of something to say…She bowed her head. "My Lord, my name is—"

"I know who you are," Vader said flatly. "I sent for you, if you recall."

Lylla fluttered her eyes downward. For the first time in years, she actually felt awkward. For the first time in years, she did not have complete control of her situation. Not this time.

"Yes, of course you did, Lord Vader," she stammered, fighting to retain her coolly seductive composure. Taking in a deep breath, she reached up to her breasts and began unlatching the fasteners of her garment.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Lylla stopped at the third fastener and glanced up at the Dark Lord, knitting her brow in mild confusion. "I'm…taking my clothes off, my Lord."

"Why?" Vader asked quietly.

"Because…I thought you wanted me to."

It was then Vader rose from the encapsulated throne. As he did, the center of the sphere's lower jaw jutted out and down into a set of three stairs. Lylla was amazed by the elegance and grace in which Vader moved his armored mass. As he approached her, she felt stimulation mingle with her nervousness, causing her breast to heave up and down in shallow breathing.

He stopped just shy of a meter from her, and actually found himself mildly pleased that he did not have to strain his neck to look down into her eyes. In her heels, the top of her head stopped just above the widow's peak of his helm. It also pleased him that she looked directly into his eye screens. He opened his Force receptors to her, taking in her emotions. She was nervous, yes, but she was not afraid. This was good.

He folded his arms over his breast console. "You are not here for the purpose you think, therefore you may leave your clothing intact." He noted the slight look of disappointment flicker in her eye. "I wish to converse with you." Her nervous titter also did not escape Vader's attention. "You find that amusing, girl?"

Lylla refastened the top clips of her garment as she quickly regained her composure. "No, Lord Vader." She cleared her throat. "It's just that…most men are not interested in talking with me."

"Most men are fools, as I think you well know from your experiences," Vader stated. "Walk with me." He turned and casually strode around the meditation sphere with Lylla flanking his left. She stopped with him as he planted himself in front of the huge viewport, peering out. "You are a pleasure slave."

"Yes, my Lord, " Lylla confirmed, mildly confused by his statement of the obvious.

"Tell me, do you enjoy your work?"

"Of course, my Lord," she replied quickly.

The mask snapped her direction. "Do not lie to me, girl. I know when people lie. And do not tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth." He turned slowly to the window again. "Do you enjoy your work?"

Lylla paused, muddled by the question and unsure what Vader was getting at. Finally, she sighed deeply as she peered out the viewport, folding her hands behind her back. "I…try to make the best of the cards life has dealt me, my Lord. And I strive to be the best at what I am aboard this vessel. Wallowing in self-pity doesn’t get anyone what he or she truly wants. Obstacles are made to be overcome." She glanced sideways at the Dark Lord. "As you may well agree." 

Vader pulled himself even straighter in response. He understood the comment to be an acknowledgement of his dependence upon his life-supporting armor. This woman was, indeed, as reckless as the agents he had watching her had informed him. "You do not seem to fear me, Lylla."

Lylla was caught off guard for a moment. She liked the way Vader's resonant bass caressed her name as he spoke it for the first time. A bitter smile crossed her lips. "I do not fear much anymore, my Lord. Life is cheap, and mine is cheaper than others."

Vader did not reply immediately, but rather continued to stare out into the starless void. After a long silence, he spoke again. "I have noticed the way you look at me. Why?"

"My Lord?"

"Why do you…stare at me with lust in your eyes?"

Again, Lylla weighed the question carefully before answering. "You attract me, my Lord."

"What have I said about lying, Lylla?" 

"I am not lying. Can't you tell?"

Vader scanned her even more closely, and found that she was indeed speaking the truth. "Why do I attract you?" he asked.

They were now entering an arena more familiar to Lylla. She turned around and leaned against the window, folding her arms over her breasts, purposely pushing them even further out of her top. She tilted her head, and lowered her voice to a silken contralto. "You are commanding, my Lord. There is…majesty in your movement, your voice, and your demeanor. You hold power over life and death, and everyone fears you for it. And it’s not very often that I find someone taller than I am." She flitted her eyes up and down his powerful form, pausing briefly to scan his potent legs, before returning her gaze back to his mask. "You intrigue me. I am…curious."

For the first time since the conversation began, Vader's voice revealed a hint of emotion-- and it was irritation. "So, I am merely a curiosity to you?"

Lylla parried the verbal thrust. "And why am I here, Lord Vader? Are you not curious about me as well?"

Again, Vader turned his mask to meet Lylla's eyes head on. And again, Lylla looked into his mask without fear or hesitation. Despite the woman's insolence, he found himself enjoying this conversation. He was speaking with someone unafraid of him and intelligent, even witty. And a woman, no less…an alluring woman who was showing carnal interest in him. This had become quite alien to Vader over the last twenty years.

He turned away from the window and paced a few meters away from her—since he did not command her to follow, Lylla stayed in her leaning position against the window. She watched him intently, and felt her nervousness surface again as nothing came from him but the wheeze of his respirator. She worried that perhaps she had gone too far this time…

"Did you happen to witness the destruction of Alderaan?" Vader asked, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Lylla relaxed a bit. "Yes, my Lord, I did." 

"What did you feel when you saw it?" He turned in her direction. "Again, the truth."

Lylla stared at him through lowered lids briefly before replying. "The truth, my Lord?" She pushed herself off the window and started walking toward him. "I found it…exhilarating! It excited me. I bore witness to the ultimate power, the death of a world! And…I felt envious."

"Why?"

"I was envious because…I wished I had been the one to press the button."

She stopped in front of Vader, arms still folded, eyes still locked to his. Vader pushed past the waves of lust and rage that poured forth from the slave to continue his questioning. "You felt no terror? No shame or remorse? No pity for the Alderaani people?"

Lylla's full mouth again curved into a tight smile. "Like I said, life is cheap. I didn't know those people. Why should I care? I just enjoyed the show."

Vader said nothing, but merely nodded once. Yes, he had been right about this one. From the first moment he had seen her in the landing bay, the day she arrived with the rest of the officers’ harem on the Death Star, he had detected the pure darkness that saturated her. Self-obsessed, vain, apathetic, sadistic, lustful, beautiful; she was close to perfect for his needs. It was time now to uncover her talents and test her resolve.

"Come with me," Vader commanded, turning around, sending his cape sweeping behind him. Lylla followed, the train of her garment perfectly mimicking the grand sweep of Vader's cloak.

They left his chambers and traveled down the halls, with Vader leading and Lylla flanking slightly behind and to his left. This time she did not feel any gawks or stares, for all the surrounding personnel never dared raise their eyes in the presence of the Dark Lord. Lylla felt the thrill and arousal of enjoying the company of complete power. Vader was pleased that the long-legged pleasure slave could keep up with his pace. Very few could.

They entered a lift that took them to the detention levels. As they exited the lift, the cell block commander and two stormtroopers met them.

"Is he ready, Commander?" Vader asked.

The commander snapped himself to attention, forcing his eyes straight ahead. "Yes, my Lord. Everything has been arranged precisely as you ordered."

As she and Vader passed the officer, Lylla noticed his eyes sway away from their target on the wall to pass across her burgeoning cleavage. She dismissed this, as she was quite used to salacious glances. But Vader stopped, motioned to Lylla to stay where she stood, and calmly paced back to the officer. "Did you see something to your liking, Commander?"

The officer stammered, "No…no…my Lord…" His voice became strangled and tight, and Lylla saw the officer's eyes bulge out of his head and his pallor begin to turn bluish.

Vader's voice remained cool, his hands never moving from their position on his belt. "You will pay those in my company the same respect as you do me. Understood, Commander?" The choking officer, fighting for air through the invisible grip, hastily nodded his head. "Good." With that, he released his Force-hold on the officer and continued through the narrow detention level corridor.

Lylla froze momentarily, staring at the gasping officer, astonished. Vader could not have possibly seen the man's lascivious look, yet he knew it happened. Not only that, the Dark Lord had actually defended her honor. Excited, she smiled and followed him down the corridor.

They stopped before a cell. Vader passed his palm over the electro-lock and the door speedily and noisily slid up into the ceiling. Lylla followed him into the brightly lit chamber. In the middle of the round white room was a young human male bound by the wrists, hanging from restraints mounted in the ceiling. Lylla watched Vader circle around the young man as she stood in the door. Vader never looked at him. Eventually he motioned to Lylla to come to his side as he stopped in front of the bound man. She looked at the young man. He seemed to be no more than eighteen or nineteen, wearing a shredded Rebel uniform. He was barely conscious and badly bruised with cuts on his face and arms. She saw him look at both of them with a mix of terror, hatred, and defiance.

Vader then motioned for her to follow him. He walked toward the cylindrical wall and waved his hand again. A shelf with a concave edge slid from the wall, and Lylla gawked at the various instruments of torture she saw displayed there on a bed of black velvet. Some were modern—syringes, electronic synapse shatterers, tiny laser shivs, vibroblades. But others looked outmoded, such as the variety of leather whips, needles, and metal clamps lay amongst the more technologically advanced torments.

As she ran her eyes over the display, she again heard Vader's voice echoing throughout her mind as it did when she first entered his chambers. _*Do not speak to me in front of this prisoner. Answer me with your feelings. Understood?*_ Lylla nodded. _*This prisoner was one of Princess Leia's personal guards aboard her frigate. Like her, he seems to have been trained in resisting our truth serums. So we step to the next level of interrogation. You are to extract the location of the Rebel base from him.*_ Vader passed his gloved hand over the ensemble of instruments. _*Do you know what these are?*_ Lylla sent her affirmation. _*Excellent. You may choose your instrument for questioning now.*_

She ran her hand over the display like a divining rod. Ignoring the more modern devices, she eventually rested her hand upon a leather flog. She gripped the handle and lifted it from the velvet, running the thick leather strands through her fingers, gingerly touching the tiny sharp metal barbs fastened to each end of the strands.

_*An archaic instrument. Admirable choice. I leave you to your own devices, Lylla. Remember this—there is no right or wrong way. Only results.*_

With that, Vader turned away from the display, and it closed back into the wall. He strode to the cell door and turned briefly back to Lylla, nodding only once, before exiting into the corridor. Lylla stood for a moment, trying to calm the adrenaline streaming through her extremities, unsure how to begin the interrogation.

Meanwhile, Vader took his position in front of a security monitor in the cell block command center and watched the proceedings through the cell's camera.

She finally took a deep breath and turned to the young prisoner hanging from the ceiling, pulling herself up to her full impressive height. Slowly, casually, she strode toward him as he glared at her with hateful, frightened eyes. She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes and pulled her lips into a half smile. "The base," she murmured.

The young prisoner pulled his own lip into a snarl. "Go to hell."

She smiled even wider. "Not today." With amazing speed, she struck the man with all her strength across the chin with the butt end of the whip. He reeled to the side and cried out and before he had a second to recover, she struck him again on the other side. "Let's try this again," Lylla purred, tracing little patterns on her cleavage with the handle of the cat. "The base."

"Fuck you!" the prisoner hissed, a trickle of blood escaping his lips and running to his chin.

"Maybe later." She walked in a casual manner behind him. She ran her hand from the small of his back slowly, gingerly, all the way to the nape of his neck. She felt him shiver at her touch. She leaned into his ear as she wrapped her fingers under the collar of his torn uniform. "Besides, it doesn't look like I'm the one getting fucked here." With a powerful yank, she ripped the uniform clean from his back.

The prisoner cried out in shock. Lylla began tracing small invisible abstracts with her talon-like nails upon his naked flesh, humming a little tune. Reaching up and under the torn uniform, she did the same to his chest and abdomen, nuzzling her lips against his neck. She heard him suck air in hard as he fought against his physical response to her, and she smiled. "Do you have a name?” she whispered. “I'd like to keep this as informal as possible."

The young man bit down on his lip as she lightly grazed her nails across his navel. Before he could stop himself, he whispered, "Ralan."

She trilled his name on her tongue. "Rrralan." He gasped when he felt her press her pelvis against his buttocks. "Well, Rrralan, you are very young and very pretty. There are many other things I'd rather be doing to you right now, but we have a problem. I need to know the location of that base first."

"NO!" Ralan cried, violently shaking his head.

Lylla scowled and huffed through her nose as she backed away. She replaced the nails on his back with the sharp barbs of the cat, dangling them up and down his spine. Again he shuddered, and she heard him emit a low whimper. "One more chance, Ralan. The base." She was answered by nothing but his ragged breathing. She stepped back, twirling the cat to gain momentum. She uttered, "Pity," as she flung the cat over her head and sliced it down across his bare back.

Ralan arched violently as he screamed, and Lylla watched the fleshy stripes on his back seep red in a matter of seconds. She gasped, white-knuckling the handle of the whip and feeling her nipples stand straight out. Arousal and power surged through her entire system like lightning: She clenched her loins to keep the gushing moisture from dribbling from her trunks. Without even giving Ralan a second chance to comply, she raised the cat again and slashed a second time in reverse.

As Ralan shrieked again, Lylla heard the disembodied voice of Vader once again in her mind say, _*Control yourself, girl. Try not to kill the prisoner before extracting the information needed.*_

Lylla stopped and immediately sent her apologies to the Dark Lord, silently cursing herself for getting carried away.

_*Continue.*_

She walked around the prisoner again. She could see the tears from his eyes mingling with the blood streaming from his mouth. He hung there, panting and fighting to keep his torturer from seeing his anguish. She grabbed the front of his tattered shirt, ripping it down, exposing his bruised yet chiseled young chest. Slowly, the whip dangling by its strap from her wrist, she ran her slim hands over his chest, slipping her thigh between his legs, pressing her breasts against his bare skin, brushing her lips against his neck. Ralan stiffened and tried to jerk his head away only to have Lylla grab his hair and pull his face back to her. She bore into his blue eyes with her own, drinking in his breath, running her nails across his chest.

"Please, Ralan, just tell me where it is," she whispered against his lips, her eyes awash with feigned compassion. Her fingers rested against his nipple, teasing it into erection. She rubbed her thigh against his groin. The young man clenched his eyes and moaned, confused by the mixture of pain spiked with pleasure coursing through him. Lylla reached down and, with the handle of the whip, began caressing his crotch with it, rubbing it back and forth. Ralan shuddered and gasped, and then began to cry softly.

"Tell me where it is, and this will all stop, Ralan." Suddenly, a sob wracked Lylla's own throat, and Ralan saw a tear emerge from her eye to delicately trickle down her face. "I don't want to hurt you anymore, Ralan, " Lylla lied through her crocodile tears. "You are so beautiful, so young…so much to live for…" She rubbed his nipple even harder. “They're making me do this, Ralan, making me hurt you…like this…" She suddenly dug her talons into his areola and ruthlessly twisted it, slicing into his flesh.

Ralan screamed again, throwing his head back. Lylla, still twisting his nipple, reached down, shoved her hand down his pants and savagely grabbed his genitals, digging in her nails and squeezing with all her might. Ralan twisted and cried out, "Please, stop, please…STOP!"

In the cellblock command center, a satisfied grin spread Vader's lips under his mask as he watched Lylla bring the prisoner closer to breaking.

"The base, Ralan," Lylla hissed through clenched teeth. She twisted his privates violently to the right, and he let out a shriek of a wounded animal. "THE BASE!"

He could take no more. His young age and youthful dreams of valor and heroism had not prepared him for this kind of torment. The beatings, the drugs, the starvation, the exhaustion, the pain, the humiliation, the gashes in his back, the blood dripping and pooling at his feet, the venomous voice and velvet cruelty of this harpy's touch…no more. No more…

"Yavin Four!" he whimpered, his body wracking with sobs of torment and self-loathing. "They're on Yavin Four! Please…just stop hurting me…" As Lylla released her hold on him, Ralan slumped in his chains and cried.

She stood momentarily, arms folded, watching him. She then gently touched his face, raising his chin to meet her eyes. As he stared at her with tear-braised eyes, she leaned into him and touched his lips with hers, eventually releasing her tongue and running it along his teeth and lips. "Good boy," she whispered as she released him. She began to walk to the door when she stopped and turned. Without any warning, Lylla brought the cat up once again, and once again slashed five new furrows across young Ralan's back.

As he screamed again, Lylla snarled, "That's for taking so long," before turning on her spiked heel and exiting the cell.

She marched down the corridor to where Darth Vader stood at the command center, waiting for her. As she handed the bloodied cat to him, she stated, "Yavin Four."

"Yes, I heard," Vader replied, taking the cat from her hand. He tossed it toward the cellblock commander as he added, "Well done, Lylla."

Lylla's breast swelled with pride. "Thank you, My Lord."

Vader turned to the commander. "Proceed with the execution."

The commander bowed slightly, being overly careful not to cast his eyes toward Lylla. "Yes, my Lord." He gestured to the two troopers flanking the lift to follow him down the corridor to Ralan's cell.

Vader started toward the lift when he turned to Lylla behind him. "You will accompany me back to my chambers, Lylla." With that, he extended his massive arm toward her, indicating that she take it.

For a brief second, Lylla stood stunned, her mouth agape. She didn't even notice the blaster shots coming from down the cellblock corridor. No one had ever done this for her before. She thought for a moment that she might cry…With a deep breath and a soft smile, she raised her hand and settled it upon the Dark Lord's arm. He bowed his helm to her slightly as he led her into the lift. He continued to escort her when they left the lift and traveled down the corridors of the Death Star back toward his private chambers. Lylla could only imagine what sort of impression they struck as they walked by the various Death Star personnel, with her walking at Vader's side. She held her head high and made her strides long and fluid despite the fact that she felt as though she may burst any moment.

They finally came upon his chambers and entered. Vader led her to the center of the room, releasing her hand and walking to his meditation chamber. He ascended the stairs and took his seat within. Lylla remained standing, waiting…

After a pause, Vader finally spoke. "I commend you, Lylla. You have exceeded my expectations. You have passed the assessment."

Lylla furrowed her brow. "The assessment, my Lord?"

Vader nodded slightly. "While you were interrogating the prisoner, I arranged release from your service here. You are now a free citizen."

Lylla's legs buckled from under her. She hit the floor hard on her knees, and the impact was enough to release the torrent of tears from her eyes. Her hand clutched her stomach. "W…what?" she stammered, battling to breathe.

"You have two choices. There is a supply cruiser leaving here destined for the Tennhausen Gate. You will have one hour to collect your things and be on it or," Vader leaned forward slightly, "you may consider this offer."

Lylla held her gaze on the Dark Lord. "What is it?"

"You may leave for the Imperial Center tomorrow to begin your training with the Imperial Security Bureau as an Interrogator." Lylla's mouth dropped open, her breath stuck in her throat. Vader continued. "There you will receive an apartment, a private vehicle, and a personal account as well as a servant of your own. Your choice, Lylla."

She sat on her heels in the middle of the chamber, still gaping at Vader, wearing an expression of utter disbelief. She fought to catch her breath so she could give him an answer…with tears still streaming down her cheeks, Lylla hoarsely whispered, "I accept your offer, Lord Vader."

"Very good. Be ready to leave by 0800 hours in the morning."

Lylla shakily rose to her feet before him, trying her best to compose herself. She took a step toward Vader's cubicle, still clutching her stomach, as she asked in a low, husky cry, "Why, Lord Vader? Why are you doing this for me?"

 _What would you have me say, Lylla,_ he thought, his inner voice itself hoarse. _That you are the first woman in twenty years who sees me as a man and not a monster? That I understand what it is to be a slave?_

"Your abilities are being wasted here," he said. "It is difficult to find those of natural talent for the Emperor's Inquest Corps, and you show an inherent gift. It should be used to its fullest advantage." Vader could feel a conflict within her, like she wanted to say something, but was unsure how to approach it…"You have a question, Lylla?"

"Yes, my Lord," she said, taking in a deep breath and wiping her eyes. She raised herself to her fullest height and met the Dark Lord's gaze. She lightly touched the train of her garment as she asked softly, "Do you… like my garb, Lord Vader?"

She saw him stiffen a bit by her question. After a guarded pause, he answered, "It is…becoming."

"Thank you," Lylla said, raising her hands to the top of her garment. "I acquired it for you, Lord Vader, with the hope that you may call on me someday." Walking slowly toward the sphere, she began to undo the clasps.

The Dark Lord gripped the arms of his throne. "What are you doing?" 

A soft, seductive smile curved Lylla’s full lips as she continued unclasping her garment. “I’m taking off my clothes. Because this time, I want to.” She pulled the garment open and let it slip from her shoulders. It flittered to the ground to pool around her feet. She stood before Vader. Her breasts were small, but perfectly rounded and supple, her nipples the color of a Bespin dawn. Her torso was long, her abdomen taut and lean.

She took another step forward. Vader raised his hand. "Stop, Lylla."

She did. "Why, my Lord?" He didn’t answer. A realization crept into her mind. “Oh. You already have a woman.”

“I have no woman.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Not one?” She let out an incredulous breath. "Lord Vader, you are the Might of the Empire. You could have any woman you want--”

“That is none of your concern,” he said tersely.

She’d struck on something. “But...there must have been someone? Once? I can’t believe that a man like you--"

“Are you interrogating ME, girl?” Vader rumbled with a measured menace that she felt all the way down to her bones. 

However, that didn’t stop her. “Maybe I am,” Lylla answered with a hint of defiance. “You just said I have a natural gift for it.”

Vader glared down at her, rubbing his fingers together. “Perhaps I should rescind my offer.”

Lylla looked down and away from him to hide her trembling lip. “That is your prerogative,” she said quietly. She bowed to him. “I humbly thank you for allowing me to serve you today, Lord Vader.” She turned around, picked her garment off the floor, and started toward the door.

“I have not released you yet,” he growled.

Lylla stopped, but didn’t turn around. She clenched her hands and jaw in frustration. “Lord Vader,” she murmured, her voice shaking, “what is it you want?”

 _You, Lylla,_ he thought, resigning himself to the truth. _I want you._ Vader curled his fist, but not in anger. When he spoke again, his tone had softened. “Do you understand why I wear this armor?”

Lylla closed her eyes and exhaled a silent “Oh.” She nodded. “Somewhat,” she said. “You are… damaged?”

“That is an understatement,” he said. “You do not know what I look like under this.”

“And you think I’ll be repulsed?”

“I think you will pity me. I do not tolerate pity.”

“Pity?” she said in a small bitter huff. “I haven’t felt pity in years.” Her voice was as void as space’s vacuum. “I have been a pleasure slave since before I even bled. You think I’m not damaged?” Lylla turned over her shoulder. “Do you find it so unbelievable that I could want you? As you are, now?” She drew a shuddering breath. “I want you so fiercely I can taste it.”

The moment was long, silent, save for the breathing of his respirator. Vader looked at her beautiful pale body, the slim muscles in her shoulders, the dimples in lower back, her long slender legs, the curve of her buttocks. This woman stirred something deep within the Dark Lord. Desire, yes, but something else. There was a shadow inside of her, the kind that infiltrated the heart of a survivor and hardened it into onyx. He knew that darkness all too well. 

Vader sat back in his throne. “Come back, Lylla.” Lylla turned around, her expression cautious yet hopeful, and slowly walked backed to him. Again, she directly met his gaze on as she stood before him. Vader tilted his mask down to her. Hunger laced his magnificent baritone. “I want to see the rest of you.” 

Lylla’s apprehension disappeared from her face, replaced by a slow, devilish smile. She dropped her garment. With a deft flick of her thumbs, she unhooked the garters from her vinyl briefs. Unzipping the sides of her bottoms, she pulled them down and forward off her body, leaving her only wearing her high vinyl boots. Vader drank her body in; alabaster, lithe, with the elegance of a temple sculpture and the fluidity of an arrak snake, and a scant dusting of scarlet hair nestled between her legs. 

Vader growled low in his throat, “Come here.” She ascended the first stair, then the second. Upon reaching the small landing, she knelt before him, placing her hands on top of his thighs, never taking her eyes off his mask. She was so gorgeous, so desirable, so bold, so hungry for him...“I do not know if...” He paused. “It has been a long time.”

Lylla tilted her head. “We won’t know unless we try.” Her voice was deep and rich as wine. "You trusted me with your prisoner. You trust me to go to the Imperial Center. Vader," she whispered, pushing herself up to face his mask directly, her eyes imploring, wanting, "will you trust me now?" 

He raised his gloved hand to her face and ran his fingers down her cheek. Barely touching the flesh of her long throat, he traced a line down to the sweep of her collarbone, over the curve of her shoulder. Lylla closed her eyes at his touch, and Vader could feel the sensations of heat and awakening swirl from her. With the Force he sent his response, pushing his aura to envelop her, saturate her, draw her in…

Lylla arced back, heaving her breasts upwards in the process, taking in a sharp gasp. Every nerve in her ignited, every muscle tensed and relaxed at once as she experienced the caress of a thousand fingers upon her flesh…

"Lylla," Vader whispered through his mask, "close your eyes." She complied. He passed his hand over her face…

She jerked, suddenly afraid. "I…can't open my eyes. I'm blind."

"It is temporary, Lylla. And necessary. Do not fear."

"I…I thought you trusted me.”.

"I trust that you will hold my disfigurements a secret, Lylla.” Despite his hushed tone, there was no denying the intimation of warning in his voice. “But I do not trust that you will not be horrified by them." His huge hands grasped her arms, and he pulled her up to his lap, guiding to her rest across his powerful legs, nestling her into the crook of his massive arm. She heard the quiet squeal of hydraulics, and felt the chamber tremor as it closed. Emanating all around them, the life support mechanisms of the sphere began to pulse and whir, and she heard the clicks of the metal appendages lowering from the ceiling, clamping onto his helmet and mask.

“The air will be become oppressive for you,” Vader said. “It is oxygen rich and kept at a pressure optimal to my needs.” The rasping wheeze of the mask ceased and was replaced by the hiss of oxygen dispensers and the rhythmic hum of the hyperbaric chamber’s respirator. As she listened to the appendages lift his mask up, the air became thicker, damper, warmer, and she felt a dull pressure in her ears and eyes. But the oxygen levels made up for the discomfort, feeding her arousal even more. She moaned at the touch of Vader's leather-clad hand covering her entire breast. He slid her nipple between his fingers, caressing and squeezing it lightly before pulling her close and taking it with his lips and his tongue and his teeth. Lylla arched her entire body in bliss, and a wide smile spread across her face--she didn’t know how long it had been since Vader had a woman, but he obviously remembered how to pleasure one. Her hips pumped and she felt the warm gush of want begin to wash between her legs. 

She reached to touch his head…and felt him flinch. "Ssshh," she hushed. "Trust me..." She ran her fingers over his bared skull, down his brow, under his eye. Yes, he was scarred, but rather than being repulsed, the texture of his skin only furthered her desire to pleasure him. She ran her finger under his chin. "Kiss me…”

He did. He was hesitant at first. His lips were soft and, Lylla found, a little unpracticed. She took the initiative and took his lips into her own, caressing them, fondling them. When she felt he had relaxed under her kiss, she gingerly slipped her tongue inside.

Lylla’s confidence mingled with her erotic skill eventually stirred Vader from of his apprehension, and he wrapped his hands around her back and moved her to straddle him, crushing her against his massive chest and the armor plating it. She moaned within his kiss as it became deeper and forceful, slipping her hands down and around his waist. She smiled against his lips when she felt his codpiece swelling and growing hard underneath her. Despite his concern, he was, indeed, functional.

He softly pulled away from her mouth and he gently bent her back, holding her by the small of her back. As she arched her back, he ran his hand down her throat again, to her breasts, over her belly and down further until he found her mound. Then, he hooked a finger just under its fleshy edge, and found the engorged bud of her clit, lightly stroking it as he took her breast into his mouth again. Lylla threw her head back and cried out, and in response he pushed two fingers inside her, sliding them in and out in a slow, primal rhythm. She tightened her muscles around them, pulling them in even further and she felt a low rumble from his throat through her nipple. Vader pulled away from her breast, still pleasuring her with his fingers, and she heard the clicks of the appendages again. They connected to his breastplate, shutting down his suit’s systems, systematically inserting tubes, and removing it with mechanical expertise. In time, he pulled her back to him.  
  
She lifted her hands to his revealed chest his hairless, damaged skin. She gasped when her fingers touched a tube inserted over his heart, alarmed that she might have disturbed its function. "It is all right,” he murmured. “You did not hurt me." Lylla nodded her response of relief. Her fingers traveled down again, mindful of the tube, until she found a nipple. She took it between her thumb and finger, pinching and pulling it just enough, before she bent down and replaced them with her wet mouth. Vader closed his eyes and groaned, lacing his fingers into her hair:; the burns of Mustafar hadn’t deadened that. She swirled her tongue around and across his nipple before taking it between her teeth and tugging it erect. His hands caressed down her jaw, down her throat and over her shoulders, down her back until he found her exquisite ass. Grabbing with both hands, he pulled her further on top of him, and he basked in the feel of her hard nipples against his bared chest. 

Her breaths were forced and short, her body writhing with fervent need. "Please…my Lord…please," she gasped against his lips, "Please take me…"

Vader took in a deep breath, as the hyperbaric chamber’s respirator allowed him to breathe more freely on his own. He pulled his hand from her mound and took hers, pushing it down to his groin, whispering, "Assist me, Lylla…"

Her fingers searched the codpiece for its fasteners, finally finding and unsnapping them. She shifted herself up to allow greater freedom in releasing his shaft from his suit. She stroked it tenderly yet firmly, and matched his groans when she felt his true length and girth harden in her hand. Oh yes. She would very much enjoy this.

For a moment, Vader forgot himself. Forgot his status, his power, his injuries, his limits, his scars, even his name…he found he had just regarded himself by that other name, that forbidden name, that youthful name he remembered breathed into his ear many years ago by a sweet young voice…the name he would never hear again said in that soft, passionate way…

"Vader…"

His eyes snapped open as he was shaken from the memory by Lylla growling his Sith name. 

She lowered her body onto him, easing his swollen cock into herself slowly, carefully, guiding him into her, a little deeper with every pump of her hips. Lylla grunted through her teeth--his size, his hardness, his power and strength...it was ecstasy Lylla had never felt with any other man before. She rested her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself, and undulated up and down, moving her slim hips in little circular motions around him. 

Vader bared his teeth at the feel of her. Her sex gripped his shaft like a fist and was sultry as heated honey. “Yessss…” he growled into her ear, the sound from his throat was that of a roused Rancor, sending electricity through Lylla’s skin. But then he violently jerked. The sensation of sex had become so alien to his broken body that a searing spasm shot up his back into his neck. He pulled the Force around him and into his spastic muscles, using its power to release them. Lylla felt him spasm through her own body, and gasped in concern. “My Lord, are you al--” He didn’t let her finish. He fisted the back of her hair and crushed his mouth onto hers in an ardent, ferocious kiss. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and moved her to his desired rhythm .

And then, she heard his voice like before, not in her ears, but in her head. A language unlike any she had ever heard, it was melodic and guttural at the same time, and it touched something inside of her… _*Si'at siikaa eusss'na Sith sei ti'maa…*_

Lylla threw back her head as Vader pathed the words into her mind. She felt her soul explode from her being like the bloom of an ebon rose. The sensation of a thousand breaths whispered against her flesh. Behind her blinded eyes she saw shadowy forms approach her gaze as black lightning strobed behind them… She began to pump herself faster on him, and her moans soon elevated into wails of pleasure and pain as she felt the white-hot licks of demonic energy braise her back, run down her legs…the kisses of sinister angels burned her neck, her face, her breasts with cold heat…Vader snarled a smile as he watched her face twist in ecstatic agony…

_*Loisss'an siikaa, Lylla?*_

“No,” she gasped, aware that she was suddenly understanding his language. He asked her if she was afraid. And she should have been, that she knew. Not only was she unafraid, she felt invincible. 

_*Good.*_ He felt the first pulls of orgasm beginning to tease his body. When he felt Lylla’s body tense and shiver, he knew she was close. She pounded herself faster and harder on his cock, her groans rough and guttural. They were still there, the angels of night, behind her eyes, all around her, raking her skin with their talons, the pain becoming the pleasure, the darkness becoming her light… her breath was a whispered storm in his ear. “Vader, gods, fuck me…please...PLEASE...fuck me...my Lord….aAAAHHH… Vay-Vay-OH GODS VAAAAAADERRR!"

The beings behind her eyes all howled and shot into the dark skies surrounding them, flying into the lightning-laced black clouds. She flung herself back so violently she feared her spine may snap. Her muscles exploded with black fire, and she heard her own voice turn from human to animal, the howl of a tortured beast suddenly freed from its snare.

The fire convulsed through him as well. Vader fisted her hair and pulled her back to him, roaring against her neck, a sound far more visceral than his mask could ever create. His cybernetic fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, and he thoroughly enjoyed her cry of pain in his ear. His scalding seed pulsed into her, flooding her and himself. The pain the orgasm caused him was close to unbearable, but Vader embraced it, welcomed it. 

Even as she descended back into herself, Lylla still wailed and writhed, unable to stop the shade of the Sith magic raging through her. Vader ran his palm over her quivering body, using the Force to calm her. They collapsed into each other, Lylla burying her face into his neck, struggling for breath in the thick oxygen-heavy air, and Vader holding her and doing the same. He threaded his fingers through her hair. "Lylla," he panted into her ear, "what is your surname?"

His voice soothed her back into reality. She lifted her head as she whispered through ragged breaths, "I am a pleasure slave, my Lord. I have no surname."

“You are no longer a pleasure slave,” he murmured, “so you will need a proper name as an Imperial Inquisitor.” He cupped her face, tracing his thumb down her cheek. “I will give you one.”

Lylla exhaled like she had held her breath for years. Tears stung in her shuttered eyes, and emotion overwhelmed her. This man...and he was a man, no matter what the rest of the galaxy believed..ignited something within her that made her feel ALIVE and not so alone anymore. She cupped his scarred cheek. “Lover…please…let me see your face. I will not be afraid, I swear it."

He opened himself again to her, and felt the truth in her request. He lightly touched her closed eyes. She opened them...the light of the chamber poured into her newly opened irises, and she blinked hard to help focus them. As she became reacquainted with the light, she gazed into Vader's pale scarred face and gasped.

Vader felt betrayed by her reaction. "What?"

Lylla smiled. "Your eyes, my Lord," she whispered with subdued surprise, "they're… blue."

* * *

The roundabout dropped Lylla in front of the harem quarters door. She entered the chamber, and once again the remainder of the harem hushed their conversation. The group of girls gawked at her. Last time, they stared at her with incredulous astonishment. This time, their eyes were filled with terror. A few even recoiled into the corners of their berths. One even started crying. 

Lylla looked every single one of them in the eyes. And said nothing. For some reason that she couldn’t decipher, they looked different to her. They were...feeble. Insignificant. Meaningless. 

The matron, a woman of middle age with a pushed-in face, dared to engage her. “Ly-lylla,” she stammered, “a package came for you. I p-put it on your berth.” Lylla looked at her, but did not respond. She just strode into her private chamber door. 

She walked to her berth, where a long plasteel giftbox was laid. Lylla opened it, and gasped as she lifted the contents out of the box. It was an ensemble that could have come out from any high-fashion holo-zine. A black double-breasted fitted jacket and an ankle-length skirt made of the finest woolvet, a small fashionable hat, black leather touring gloves, an Arisand fur muff and black ankle boots. It was the most expensive outfit she had ever seen. That’s when she noticed the flimsy underneath the ensemble. She picked it up and read it.

_I assume you do not have the proper attire in which to travel to the Imperial Center. Grand Moff Motti’s wife was generous enough to offer this ensemble, once I explained to her that her and her husband’s trysts with you could easily become public knowledge._

Lylla gasped. How did he possibly...oh. He was Darth Vader. He probably had compromising dossiers on every Moff, governor, and officer in the Empire. 

_As a free citizen of the Galactic Empire and an Imperial Inquisitor, your name is now Madame Lylla Sa’thraxxx._

"Madame?" Lylla’s jaw dropped. “Sa’thraxxx…” she whispered, trying it out on her tongue. A strange name. Did it mean something? Yet it sounded powerful. Intimidating, like the hiss of a serpent. She liked it.

_I will come to the Imperial Center once the Rebels on Yavin IV have been annihilated. I expect you to make yourself available to me at my command._

Make herself available? She would sleep on the ground outside his door if he commanded it. She read the last sentence…

_And to me alone._

Elation jolted up Lylla’s spine. With glee, she grabbed the jacket and held it to herself, turning to the mirror to see it--but stopped when she saw her reflection. She slowly lowered the jacket. Now she knew why the girls reacted the way they did, why they stared at her in terror.

Her scarlet hair had grown from a short bob into a wild mane that snaked around her shoulders and was streaked black. Her eyes were no longer black. They had turned crystalline silver. She had touched the Dark Side of the Force, and it had marked her forever.

Lylla stepped to the mirror and she set her hands on her own image. She knew she should have been shocked, or upset, or frightened. But instead, she was entranced. She thought she had never looked more beautiful. 

She could still feel the burning kisses of the dark angels on her neck.

She smiled.

To Be Continued...


End file.
